 | Philaster |  |
14
ACT II.
SCENE I.
Scene, an Apartment in the Palace.Enter Philaster and Bellario.
Phi.
And thou shalt find her honourable, Boy;
Full of Regard unto thy tender Youth.
For thine own Modesty, and for my sake,
Apter to give, than thou wilt be to ask,
Ay, or deserve.
Bel.
Sir, you did take me up
When I was nothing; and only yet am something,
By being yours: You trusted me unknown;
And that which you are apt to construe now
A simple Innocence in me, perhaps,
Might have been Craft, the Cunning of a Boy
Hardened in Lies and Theft; yet ventur'd You
To part my Miseries and me: For which,
I never can expect to serve a Lady,
That bears more Honour in her Breast than You.
Phi.
But, Boy, it will prefer thee; thou art young,
And bear'st a childish overflowing Love
To them that clap thy Cheeks, and speak thee fair.
But when thy Judgement comes to rule those Passions,
Thou wilt remember best those careful Friends,
That plac'd thee in the noblest Way of Life.
She is a Princess I prefer thee to.
Bel.
In that small Time that I have seen the World,
I never knew a Man hasty to part with
A Servant he thought trusty: I remember,
My Father would prefer the Boys he kept
15
Till they were grown too saucy for himself.
Phi.
Why, gentle Boy, I find no Fault at all
In thy Behaviour.
Bel.
Sir, if I have made
A Fault of Ignorance, instruct my Youth;
I shall be willing, if not apt, to learn:
Age and Experience will adorn my Mind
With larger Knowledge: And if I have done
A wilful Fault, think me not past all Hope
For once. What Master holds so strict a Hand
Over his Boy, that he will part with him
Without one Warning? Let me be corrected,
To break my Stubbornness, if it be so,
Rather than turn me off, and I shall mend.
Phi.
Thy Love doth plead so prettily to stay,
That, trust me, I could weep to part with thee.
Alas! I do not turn thee off; thou know'st,
It is my Business that doth call thee hence;
And, when thou art with her, thou dwell'st with me:
Think so, and 'tis so; and when Time is full,
That thou hast well discharg'd this heavy Trust,
Laid on so weak a one, I will again
With Joy receive thee; as I live, I will.
Nay, weep not, gentle Boy; 'tis more than Time
Thou didst attend the Princess.
Bel.
I am gone;
But since I am to part with you, my Lord,
And none knows whether I shall live to do
More Service for you, take this little Prayer:
Heav'n bless your Loves, your Fights, all your Designs!
May sick Men, if they have your Wish, be well!
And Heav'n hate those you curse, though I be one!
[Exit.
Phi.
The Love of Boys unto their Lords is strange!
I have read Wonders of it! yet this Boy,
For my Sake, (if a Man may judge by Looks,
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A Day to pay him for his Loyalty.
[Exit.
Scene changes to Arethusa's Apartment.
Enter Arethusa and a Lady.
Are.
Where's the Boy? Where's Bellario?
La.
Within, Madam.
Are.
Gave you him Gold to buy him Clothes?
La.
I did.
Are.
And has he don't?
La.
Madam, not yet.
Are.
'Tis a pretty sad talking Boy; is it not?
Enter Galatea.
Are.
O, you are welcome! What good News?
Gal.
As good as any one can tell your Grace,
That says she has done that you would have wish'd.
Are.
Hast thou discovered then?
Gal.
I have. Your Prince,
Brave Pharamond's Disloyal.
Are.
And with whom?
Gal.
Ev'n with the Lady we suspect; with Megra.
Are.
O, where! and when?
Gal.
I can discover all.
Are.
The King shall know this; and if Destiny,
To whom we dare not say, it shall not be,
Have not decreed it so in lasting Leaves,
Whose smallest Characters were never chang'd,
This hated Match with Pharamond shall break.
Run back into the Presence, mingle there
Again with other Ladies; leave the rest
To me.
[Exit Gal.
Where's the Boy?
La.
Here, Madam.
17
Are.
Why art thou ever melancholy? Sir:
You are sad to change your Service: Is't not so?
Bel.
Madam, I have not chang'd; I wait on you,
To do him Service.
Are.
Thou disclaim'st in me;
Tell me, Bellario, thou can'st sing and play?
Bel.
If Grief will give me Leave, Madam, I can.
Are.
Alas! what Kind of Grief can thy Years know?
Had'st a curst Master when thou went'st to School?
Thou art not capable of other Grief:
Thy Brows and Cheeks are smooth as Waters be,
When no Breath troubles them: Believe me, Boy,
Care seeks out wrinkled Brows and hollow Eyes,
And builds himself Caves to abide in them.
Come, Sir, tell me truly, does your Lord love me?
Bel.
Love, Madam? I know not what it is.
Are.
Can'st thou know Grief, and never yet knew'st Love?
Thou art deceiv'd, Boy; does he speak of me,
As if he wish'd me well?
Bel.
If it be Love,
To forget all Respect of his own Friends,
In thinking on your Face: If it be Love,
To sit cross-arm'd, and sigh away the Day,
Mingled with Starts, crying your Name as loud
And hastily, as Men i'th'Streets do Fire:
If it be Love, to weep himself away,
When he but hears of any Lady dead,
Or kill'd, because it might have been your Chance:
If, when he goes to Rest (which will not be)
'Twixt ev'ry Prayer he says, he names you once
As others drop a Bead, be to be in Love:
Then, Madam, I dare swear he loves you.
Are.
O!
You are a cunning Boy, taught to deceive,
For your Lord's Credit: but thou know'st, a Falsehood
18
Than any Truth, that says, he loves me not.
Lead the Way, Boy. Do you attend me too;
'Tis thy Lord's Business hastes me thus. Away.
[Exeunt.
Scene changes to another Apartment in the Palace.
Enter Megra and Pharamond.
Meg.
What then am I? a poor neglected Stale!
Have I then been an idle toying She,
To fool away an Hour or two withal,
And then thrown by for ever?
Pha.
Nay, have Patience!
Meg.
Patience! I shall go mad! why I shall be
A Mark for all the Pages of the Court
To spend their Wit upon!
Pha.
It shall not be.
She, whose Dishonour is not known abroad,
Is not at all dishonour'd.
Meg.
Not dishonour'd!
Have we then been so chary of our Fame,
So cautious think you, in our Course of Love
No Blot of Calumny has fall'n upon it? Say,
What Charm has veil'd Suspicion's hundred Eyes,
And who shall stop the cruel Hand of Scorn?
Pha.
Cease your Complaints, reproachful and unkind!
What could I do? Obedience to my Father,
My Country's Good, my plighted Faith, my Fame,
Each Circumstance of State and Duty, ask'd
The Tender of my Hand to Arethusa.
Meg.
Talk not of Arethusa! She, I know,
Would fain get rid of her most precious Bargain.
She is for softer Dalliance; she has got
A Cherub, a young Hylas, an Adonis!
Pha.
What mean you?
Meg.
She, good Faith, has her Bellario!
A Boy—about Eighteen—a pretty Boy!
Why this is he that must when you are wed
19
Sing, play upon the Lute, with Hand and Voice
Binding your Thoughts in Sleep: She does provide him
For you and for herself.
Pha.
Injurious Megra!
Oh, add not Shame to Shame! To rob a Lady
Of her good Name thus, is an heinous Sin,
Not to be pardon'd; yet, though false as Hell,
'Twill never be redeem'd, if it be sown
Amongst the People, fruitful to increase
All Evil they shall hear.
Meg.
It shall be known.
Nay, more, by Heav'n 'tis true! a thousand Things
Speak it, beyond all Contradiction, true:
Observe how brave she keeps him; how he stands
For ever at her beck! There's not an Hour,
Sacred howe'er to female Privacy,
But he's admitted; and in open Court
Their tell-tale Eyes hold soft Discourse together.
Why, why is all this? Think you she's content
To look upon him?
Pha.
Make it but appear
That she has play'd the Wanton with this Stripling,
All Spain as well as Sicily shall know
Her foul Dishonour. I'll disgrace her first,
Then leave her to her Shame.
Meg.
You are resolv'd.
Pha.
Most constantly.
Meg.
The rest remains with me:
I will produce such Proofs, that she shall know
I did not leave our Country, and degrade
Our Spanish Honour and Nobility,
To stand a mean Attendant in her Chamber,
With hood-wink'd Eyes, and Finger on my Lips.
What I have seen, I'll speak; what known, proclaim:
Her Story shall be general as the Wind,
And fly as far.—I will about it strait.
Expect News from me, Pharamond. Farewell.
[Exit.
20
alone.
True or not true, one Way I like this well,
For I suspect the Princess loves me not.
If Megra's Charge prove Malice, her own Ruin
Must follow, and I'm quit of her for ever:
But if she makes Suspicions Truths, or if,
Which were as deep Confusion, Arethusa
Disdain our proffer'd Union, and Philaster
Stand foremost in her Heart, let Megra's Proofs
Wear but the Semblance, and the Garb of Truth,
They shall afford me Measure of Revenge.
I will look on with an indifferent Eye,
Prepar'd for either Fortune; or to wed
If she prove faithful, or repulse her sham'd.
[Exit.
Scene, the Presence Chamber.
Enter Dion, Cleremont, Thrasiline, Megra, and Galatea.
Dion.
Come, Ladies, shall we talk a Round!
Gal.
'Tis late.
Meg.
'Tis all
My Eyes will do to lead me to my Bed.
Enter Pharamond.
Thra.
The Prince!
Pha.
Not a-bed, Ladies! You're good Sitters up.
What think you of a pleasant Dream, to last
Till Morning?
Enter Arethusa and Bellario.
Are.
'Tis well, my Lord, you're courting of Ladies.
Is't not late, Gentlemen?
Cle.
Yes, Madam.
Are.
Wait you there.
[Exit Arethusa.
21
She's jealous, as I live. Look you, my Lord,
The Princess has a Boy!
Pha.
His Form is Angel-like!
Dion.
Serves he the Princess?
Thra.
Yes.
Dion.
'Tis a sweet Boy!
Pha.
Ladies all, good Rest: I mean to kill a Buck
To-morrow Morning, 'ere you've done your Dreams.
[Exit Phar.
Meg.
All Happiness attend your Grace! Gentlemen, good Rest.
Gal.
All, Good Night.
[Ex. Gal. and Meg.
Dion.
May your Dreams be true to you!
What shall we do, Gallants? 'Tis late. The King
Is up still. See, he comes, and Arethusa
With him.
Enter King, Arethusa and Guard.
King.
Look, your Intelligence be true.
Are.
Upon my Life, it is: And I do hope,
Your Highness will not tie me to a Man,
That in the Heat of Wooing throws me off,
And takes another.
Dion.
What should this mean?
King.
If it be true,
That Lady had much better have embrac'd
Cureless Diseases. Get you to your Rest.
Ex. Are. and Bel.
You shall be righted. Gentlemen, draw near:
Haste, some of you, and cunningly discover
If Megra be in her Lodging.
Cle.
Sir,
She parted hence but now with other Ladies.
King.
I would speak with her.
Dion.
She's here my Lord.
22
King.
Now Lady of Honour, where's your Honour now?
No Man can fit your Palate, but the Prince.
Thou troubled Sea of Sin; thou Wilderness,
Inhabited by wild Affections, tell me,
Had you none to pull on with your Courtesies
But he that must be mine, and wrong my Daughter?
By all the Gods! all these, and all the Court
Shall hoot thee, and break scurvy Jests upon thee,
Make ribald Rhimes, and fear thy Name on Walls.
Meg.
I dare, my Lord, your Hootings and your Clamours.
Your private Whispers, and your broader Fleerings,
Can no more vex my Soul, than this base Carriage,
The poor Destruction of a Lady's Honour,
The publishing the Weakness of a Woman.
But I have Vengeance yet in Store for some,
Shall, in the utmost Scorn you can have of me,
Be Joy and Nourishment.
King.
What means the Wanton?
D'ye glory in your Shame?
Meg.
I will have Fellows,
Such Fellows in't, as shall make noble Mirth.
The Princess, your dear Daughter, shall stand by me,
On Walls, and sung in Ballads, any thing.
King.
My Daughter?
Meg.
Yes, your Daughter, Arethusa,
The Glory of your Sicily, which I,
A Stranger to your Kingdom, laugh to Scorn.
I know her Shame, and will discover all;
Nay, will dishonour her. I know the Boy
She keeps, a handsome Boy, about Eighteen;
Know what she does with him, and where, and when.
Come, Sir, you put me to a Woman's Madness,
The Glory of a Fury.
King.
What Boy's this
23
Meg.
Alas, good-minded Prince!
You know not these Things: I will make them plain.
I will not fall alone: What I have known
Shall be as public as a Print: All Tongues
Shall speak it, as they do the Language they
Are born in, as free and commonly: I'll set it
Like a prodigious Star, for all to gaze at;
And that so high and glowing, other Realms,
Foreign and far, shall read it there; and then
Behold the Fall of your fair Princess too.
[Exit.
King.
Has she a Boy?
Cle.
So, please your Grace, I've seen
A Boy wait on her, a fair Boy.
King.
Away! I'd be alone: Go, get you to your Quarters.
[Exeunt.
Manet King.
You Gods, I see, that who unrighteously
Holds Wealth or State from others, shall be curst
In that which meaner Men are blest withal:
Ages to come shall know no Male of him
Left to inherit, and his Name shall be
Blotted from Earth. If he have any Child,
It shall be crossly match'd. The Gods themselves
Shall sow wild Strife between her Lord and her;
Or she shall prove his Curse, who gave her Being.
Gods! if it be your Wills—But how can I
Look to be heard of Gods, who must be just,
Praying upon the Ground, I hold by Wrong?
[Exit.
| Philaster | |